I could hear the angels whispering.

I find that I do not become passionate about something that I have no knowledge in, or perhaps a better way to put it is in such things in which I do not believe I have knowledge, I am not passionate. Our world will always be in crisis, if we were to assemble a universal counter of days without accidents there never would come a day that it was not set back to zero umpteen times. Thus with the onset of potential world panic on yet another 'incurable' illness I find myself questioning the realism of it all. People are dying every year, month, day, hour, and second. I know from life experience that each death is just as painful as the next. In every case there is a family grieving for the loved one gone forever. The pain is there for all time, though it may lessen, there will always be days where the sadness returns as another first is realized and the loved one will not be there to see it. At times I wish for a world free of restraint; where one could be attuned to the world in a way that is much buried in our society today. Communicating in such a primal way that fully formulated words were of little use...and thus were pushed to the wayside. Tonight I visited with my Grandpa who is now quite old, over the last few months I have watched him age rapidly, though still completely lucid, he told me that at times he can not recall certain words. It is not from lack of use of them, merely that they have slipped from his recollection. This gave me much pause for thought, and I am still thinking on it and am not sure quite what it is that happens as we age to cause us to revert back to how we were when we came to this world. Is death to be feared? Is our thought language the true expression of our humanity? I wish I knew...